Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Lucia
The house always looked peaceful from the outside, a beautiful facade of what it actually was inside.
The gardens were trimmed to perfection, stretching out in manicured lines beyond the house, the stone walkways swept clean, and the tall arched windows left open just enough to let in the late afternoon air.
The marble exterior and ironwork details were polished to a quiet shine that spoke of wealth without ever needing to announce it.
It created an image people trusted, the kind that suggested stability and control, but that illusion had never fooled me. I’d grown up inside these walls, and I understood better than anyone that quiet didn’t mean safe.
It meant that whatever needed to stay hidden was being handled somewhere else, far enough away that it didn’t disrupt what people were meant to see.
I stood in the kitchen with my hand resting against the marble counter watching Rosa move around the space as she prepared dinner. Her movements were steady and practiced in a way that had always been comforting.
She had been part of this house longer than I could remember, long enough that she felt like a constant in a world that rarely stayed still. And she carried herself with a calm that never seemed forced, even when everything else around us shifted.
And I loved her like a mother.
The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air, warm and familiar, but it didn’t settle the uneasy feeling that had followed me since I had woken up that morning.
“You’re not listening to me,” Rosa said, glancing over her shoulder as she stirred the sauce on the stove, her tone gentle but inquisitive.
I blinked, realizing I hadn’t responded to whatever she had been saying. I pushed myself off the counter as I tried to gather my thoughts back into something resembling attention. “I am,” I said, though the words came out automatically, more habit than truth.
She turned fully then, her gaze settling on me in a way that made it clear she wasn’t convinced. I didn’t try to argue the point. There wasn’t any reason to. She knew me too well for that.
“You’ve been somewhere else all afternoon,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth before setting it aside. “That’s not like you.”
I let out a soft breath and moved toward the table, more to give myself something to do than because I was hungry, and pulled out a chair before sitting down.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I said, keeping my tone even because it wasn’t entirely a lie.
Sleep had been shallow, broken by a restless awareness I couldn’t quite explain, like something had shifted just out of sight of my well-constructed, strictly controlled world.
Rosa studied me for a moment before nodding slightly, as if she was choosing not to push further, and returned her attention to the stove. “Your father asked for you this morning,” she said after a moment, her voice casual in a way that didn’t quite match the weight of the words.
That made me pause, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table before I forced them to relax. “When?” I asked.
“Early,” she replied. “You were still asleep.”
“Did he say why?” I kept my voice steady.
Rosa shook her head. “No, but he wasn’t in a good mood.”
My father rarely was.
I picked up my fork and forced myself to take a few bites of the food she set in front of me, even though I suddenly had no appetite. My attention drifted toward the open window across the room.
Outside, everything looked as it always did. The grounds were quiet, and the distant sound of voices carried just enough to suggest normalcy. But there was something off beneath it, something subtle that wouldn’t have stood out to anyone who didn’t know what to look for.
An ominous undercurrent weighted the air. Was that why I had trouble sleeping, why I’d felt off all morning? That was surely why my father wanted to speak with me.
I set my fork down after a few minutes, the food untouched beyond that, and pushed my chair back as I stood. “I’ll go find him,” I said, wanting to get this over with. Whatever it was.
Rosa watched me carefully, her expression softening slightly. “Be careful with him today.”
There was something in the way she said it that made me hesitate. It wasn’t the warning itself being new. This felt heavier than usual, like she understood more than she was saying.
“I always am,” I replied quietly before leaving the kitchen.
The hallway was silent as I made my way toward my father’s office, my steps steady, even as that same restless awareness settled deeper in my chest. The closer I got, the more certain I became that whatever had shifted wasn’t small and that I was about to be pulled into something I had spent most of my life being kept just outside of.
Two men stood outside his door, both of them straightening slightly when they saw me approach. One of them reached for the handle without a word, allowing me entry.
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click, and found my father standing near his desk, his attention fixed on something spread out across the surface. He didn’t look up right away which meant he already knew I was there.
“You took your time,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were asking for me,” I replied, moving farther into the room.
He glanced at me briefly, his expression sharp and assessing before his attention shifted back to the papers in front of him. “Sit.”
I did, folding my hands in my lap as I waited, giving him the time he always took before saying what needed to be said. He was deliberate in everything, especially when it came to decisions that carried weight, and whatever this was, it had already been decided before I walked in.
“You’re aware of the tension between families,” he said after a moment, his tone calm as if he were discussing something ordinary.
“Yes,” I answered.
His gaze flicked back to me, studying. “More than you should be?”
I held his stare without hesitation. “Not more than I should.” That was the safest answer. I didn’t admit I heard whispers in this house from his men and the staff. They all had loose lips when they thought no one was listening.
My answer seemed to satisfy him.
“There was an attempt made against one of the Bratva’s operations,” he continued. “A controlled hit. It failed, but that wasn’t the point.”
My fingers tightened slightly, though I kept my expression even. He’d never shared such information with me. Why now? I knew better than to ask questions.
“They were targeting a key shipping line. Something that would have disrupted movement across multiple territories. It wasn’t about a single loss. It was about leverage.”
I understood that. More than he probably realized.
“And they know it came from us,” he added.
My body tightened, and I froze. This was information that was never shared outside of those under his command and especially not with a woman.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“We control the situation before it forces our hand.” His voice was calm, but there was nothing uncertain about it.
“How?” I asked, even though I already felt where this was going.
He stepped away from the desk then, closing the distance between us until there was no space left to pretend this was anything but direct.
“We align with them,” he said.
My pulse picked up slightly, steady but unmistakable, as everything fell into place. “Through what?” I whispered, but I knew. God, I knew.
His gaze held mine, unblinking. “Through you.” There was no hesitation in his words, no attempt to soften what he was saying or dress it up as something else.
I didn’t look away even as the reality of it settled in fully. “You want to marry me to one of theirs?” I asked weakly.
“Yes.” There was zero emotion in his response, but that had always been the way of it.
My father wasn’t cruel, and he’d never treated me with anything that could be called abuse, but affection had never been something he offered, either. I’d known long before this moment that when the time came, I would be used in whatever way benefited the family and his business most.
The simplicity of his answer made it heavier, not lighter, because there was no space in it for argument or negotiation.
“This will be an alliance and give us proximity,” he replied. “It gives us access and time to decide how far this goes before it becomes something neither side can contain.”
No peace or resolution. Control. That’s what this was always about.
“Who?” I asked quietly.
He studied me for a moment before answering. “Alexei Drakovich.”
The name settled into place, unfamiliar but already carrying weight. I let out a slow breath as everything aligned into something clear and unavoidable.
This was about power, control, and making sure that whatever came next happened on our terms and didn’t leave us exposed.
I lifted my chin slightly, meeting his gaze with controlled grace, because if this was where I was being placed, then I wasn’t going to step into it blindly.
“When?” I asked.
“Soon,” he said.
There was no hesitation in that, either, no room for delay because there never was when something like this started moving.
I nodded once. I understood exactly what was expected of me.
“Then tell me what you need from me,” I said, my voice steady and my focus clear. Because if I was going to be part of this, I would be more than just a piece moved into place.
I would be prepared.